I would like to see your thoughts on this piece of writing I wrote. (Be honest)
I can’t remember how it happened… if it happened at all. One moment I’m on my bike, the wind whipping against my face, the world a blur of motion. The next, the ground rises up, and my body is swallowed by it. There’s no time to react, no warning, just the sharp jolt of impact. I don’t know how fast I was going maybe five miles, maybe ten. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is the pain. The suffocating weight of it. I’m drowning in my own blood. I can feel it seeping from my skin, hot and thick, cascading down my body in rivulets, soaking the earth beneath me. It’s like the ground is thirsting for it, eagerly drinking in every drop.
My leg… I try to move it, but it’s a tattered mess. The jagged rocks punctured the skin like teeth, tearing through muscle and sinew. My hands are no better, just red blurs, shaking uncontrollably as I try to assess the damage. Everything feels wrong, as though my mind is disconnecting from my body. The pain is there, sharp and clear, but it’s distant, as though it belongs to someone else. I try to scream, to let out the panic building in my chest, but something stops me. It’s like there’s an invisible wall trapping my voice, silencing my fear. I can’t cry. I can’t even move. All I can do is lie there, stunned, frozen as my body relaxes, surrendering to the shock.
“Are you okay? I heard screaming.”
The voice is distant, muffled, as if it’s coming from the end of a long tunnel. Footsteps draw nearer, soft but hurried, until I feel a hand on my back. The touch is light, hesitant, but somehow comforting. I try to turn my head, to see who it is, but my vision is blocked. There’s a white wall in front of me, too close, too blinding. I don’t remember where I am. I can’t remember how I got here.
Slowly, painfully, I sit up, careful not to aggravate my leg. I expect to see blood, torn skin, broken bones. But when I look down, there’s nothing. No cut, no scrape. My leg is whole. Intact. Yet the pain lingers, deep inside, like a shadow. It feels heavy, familiar, as though I’ve been carrying it for a lifetime. I know I fell. I felt it. The impact, the blood, the agony. It was real.
My eyes dart to the person beside me. A woman. She looks concerned, her eyes searching mine, but I don’t recognize her. She’s a stranger. Her face is soft, framed by dark, wavy hair, her clothes simple and nondescript. She doesn’t speak again, just watches, waiting for me to make sense of the chaos.
Without thinking, I push myself up, rushing down a narrow ladder leading from what looks like a loft bed. My heart is racing, my mind scrambling to catch up. But as soon as my feet hit the floor, my legs buckle. They collapse beneath me as if the bones have turned to dust. I hit the ground hard, the impact jarring, and when I look up again, the woman is gone. In her place stands a man, tall and imposing. He tells me he’s my father, his voice gentle yet firm. But his face… it’s wrong. Unfamiliar.
Reality bends and twists, warping around me. My thoughts spin in a dizzying spiral. Am I awake? Am I dreaming? I can’t tell anymore. The room stretches, contorts, colors bleeding into one another. The questions swirl faster than I can hold onto, faster than the world now spinning five miles, ten miles blurring past me. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing makes sense. Nothing feels real.
When the chaos finally slows, I find myself holding a cat. A grey and white striped cat, her fur soft and warm in my arms. I recognize her instantly, Suzie. My childhood cat. She stares up at me with her familiar green eyes, calm and trusting, though she never let me hold her like this when she was alive. Her body is solid against mine, but something feels… wrong. Out of place.
I glance around, trying to piece together where I am. The walls are a patchwork of memories, but distorted, as if I’m looking at them through fogged glass. The room shifts again, the light flickers, and when I look down at Suzie, she’s gone. Now I’m cradling a different cat, grey with black stripes. It stares at me with the same green eyes, but it’s not Suzie. The ground shifts beneath me once more, dragging me through layers of places I half-remember, each one more disjointed than the last.
Then I see her, my mother. She’s old now, frail, lying in a casket. Her skin is pale, almost translucent, and her hands are folded neatly on her chest. I step closer, my heart tightening in my chest, but before I can reach her, she’s gone. In her place, my father lies in a casket. Then my sister. Each one fading in and out of view like ghosts.
A wave of grief washes over me, cold and overwhelming, as they rise alive again, standing over me. Their faces are expressionless, their eyes unreadable. I want to reach out to them, but I can’t move. My legs are locked in place, stiff as iron. Panic claws at my throat, but my voice is gone.
“Rest in peace.”
The words are a whisper, soft and final. I try to scream, to break free from this nightmare, but I’m paralyzed, trapped in this endless loop of falling and waking.
Suddenly, I wake up. Gasping for air, my heart pounding in my chest. But as I blink away the darkness, I’m not sure if I’ve truly woken up… or if I’m still trapped in the dream.
I can’t remember how it happened… if it happened at all.
